Love is Blindness
by Hatter's Madness
Summary: She completed his very being, more than anyone or anything else in the world. He couldn't let this slip away. He couldn't let anything happen to her. She was more important than knives and gasoline and guns. WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME! She was driving him...sane. M for safety. Joker/OC
1. Chapter 1

Clouds fell in jagged patterns over the Gotham sky, allowing just enough sun to light the drab streets. The Joker emerged from his hidey hole in the shadows and started towards Gotham Station, his latest game fresh in his mind.

Today he was going to cross another line. The excitement made him shiver and giggle quietly to himself. Today he was going to _really_ upset the Batman.

See, Joker wasn't missing many marbles. He had learned very quickly just _who_ Batsy was, and it had left him cackling for days. Bruce Wayne, Gotham's resident playboy millionaire, spent his extra time running around after the Joker and other criminals in a feeble attempt to put the world to rights. It was hysterical.

_Brucey, Brucey! What a __**sad**__ little boy you are! _Joker thought.

Maybe today he would learn to see the bright side of life. Today, Joker was going to threaten Batman's latest pretty little girlfriend. Lucky for Joker, Batsy had finally gotten serious about one of them.

The number of women Brucey went through in the last six months! It was extremely difficult to get to any of them for any sort of leverage because as soon as he did, Joker would find out that there was someone else on Bruce's horizons. But Joker knew why. It was that silly Rachael Dawes; openly engaged to Harvey, Harvey, **Harvey Dent** while keeping Bruce Wayne waiting like an obedient puppy on the side.

He really _should _be grateful; Joker had gotten rid of the little harlot without a hitch! But instead he tromped around like a scolded child, putting all his energy into futile attempts to catch the Joker. It didn't matter. The Batman would break sooner or later.

The Joker quickened his pace, his grin widening more than usual as the tall iron arches of Gotham Station greeted him.

Brucey had made one fatal mistake- he got in to a comfortable routine.

Monday they went to her place.

Tuesday they stayed at the newly finished Wayne Manor.

Wednesday they went to a swanky restaurant.

Thursday they worked in the disgusting public garden he had allowed her to plant.

(_She's that strange artsy-nature type_, Joker had noted.)

Friday they went to the theater.

Saturday they went to a museum.

Sunday they went shopping for things she didn't need.

Every day they took the same path.

The Batman hardly even showed his face anymore. It was so…. **boring.** And it was very unlike Bruce to neglect covering his tracks. It was disturbing even to the Joker. So he decided it was time for her to go.

Today was Saturday. That usually meant that at 11 AM sharp, Little Miss Flowers and Sunshine would be getting off the train car and leaping into Dear Brucey's arms for a fun filled day at some dreadful museum.

But not today, ohh no. Today, the bottom of the train car the little home wrecker always took was lined with explosives. Not the kind that would demolish the whole station, but enough to take out Princess Pansy and leave Bruce Wayne just a stunned spectator, helpless to do anything. (He wasn't Superman; he couldn't very well jump in a phone booth and come out in his little _costume_, could he! **HAHAHA!**) Joker had made sure the day before to have the train rigged to a detonator, and he was _so very excited_ to use it. After all, how often do you get to see fireworks in the day time?

Joker stood in the shadow of a tall pillar and checked the time. 10:53 AM. He scanned the sparse crowd for Brucey's perfectly gelled hair, finding him sitting on one of the benches with a bouquet in his hand.

_Flowers?! _Joker though with a scoff. _Looks like the Batman's going a little __**batty**__!_

He chuckled to himself at his little pun. He moved in closer to the bench, positioning himself just next to it in the shadow of another pillar. He allowed himself a small yawn, slightly scolding himself for not getting enough sleep this week. He was **human** after all, albeit smarter than nearly all the rest of them. He still required food and rest occasionally.

Movement caused him to look up. Bruce had risen to stand by the edge of the platform. Joker checked the time again. 10:59 AM. That meant the train would be rolling by any second now.

He grinned at the excitement building in him, the pure chaos pulsing through his veins. This was his calling, causing mayhem and panic and pain. He could hear the train coming, the pillar starting to shake with the force. Joker stepped around the side of the pillar, giving him a view of where Bruce stood and effectively shielding himself from any stray debris that would fly. Time for the action!

He watched as the train started to slow down and pull up, and in the corner of his vision Joker saw Bruce pull his phone out and stare at the screen for a moment. And then he started to move.

Joker turned his head to take in Brucey's action. He was heading in the opposite direction!

_WHY?! _The voice inside the Joker growled. _What is he doing!_

Joker looked around in slight confusion. The pillar he was behind was a whole car length away from the usual spot the train pulled to, why was Bruce moving up a car length? The train started to enter the platform. Joker turned his head to count the cars.

_Two…five…seven…eight…eleven…THIRTEEN?! _Joker clenched his teeth in irritation.

The trains at Gotham Station always ran with fourteen cars! One of them was missing! He squinted at the numbers on a few of them, and his eyes bugged out a bit.

To top it off, they were out of order! The cars weren't in their usual numerical order, instead seemingly randomized. Of course he had left it to chance to ensure that everything would be the same as it had for the past month. He should have just rigged **the whole** **place** to blow! Now he wasn't even sure if there were any explosives on any of the cars!

He pulled the detonator from his pocket and frantically scanned the side of the cars as the train crept to a stop. The car in question, number 4, was one car ahead of its usual spot. In its place was number 7, the car that carried the poor creatures from the Narrows. Joker moved towards the train and paused as Bruce moved to stand halfway between cars 4 and 7.

_WHAT NOW?_

The voice roared inside Joker as Bruce began to look between the two cars with doubt on his face. Joker peered at the windows, but he was still to far away to see into them.

Finally the whistle sounded, and the train doors opened. The Joker inched forward until he was just to the left of Bruce, who was now standing in front of…the Narrows car? Joker blinked rapidly. He was all for chaos, and he didn't really like plans, but this was ridiculous! He glared at car 7 as he lifted his detonator. The explosives were supposed to be in car 4, but there was only one way to find out.

He waited as people began to exit the train cars. After what seemed like forever, Bruce moved forward with a smile, as to greet someone. Joker's thumb hovered over the button on his detonator, the excitement and anticipation setting in once again.

And off stepped…..

"Good of you to meet me here, Master Wayne."

"Not at all Alfred, I wish I could have gone to see your sister as well. Let me get your bag."

_**THE BUTLER?! WHAT!?**_

The Joker stared as the elderly man stepped off the train and handed his bags to Bruce. If Bruce was waiting for the old Brit in car 7… Was there anyone in car 4?

Joker looked up in anger at the window of car 4- and was faced with a set of the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen, staring right at him.

* * *

**Hmm.. suspense! HaHAha! Okay, I'm fine. If it sounds a little crazy, it's definitely supposed to, and his thought process won't always make sense. But come on, it's the Joker. So yeah. :) M to be safe. Who knows what kind of crazy shenanigans this guy is going to get into.**

**R+R if you'd like to :P**

**~Momo**


	2. Chapter 2

_Joker looked up in anger at the window of car 4- and was faced with a set of the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen, staring right at him._

* * *

Everything seemed to stop- the passengers, the noise, the time. The only things in the world were those two tiny oceans. His breathing stopped, _he was drowning! _He knew he needed to leave, but his feet refused to move. He was caught in this angel's unwavering gaze- piercing through his very skin, making his hair stand on end and causing a prickling feeling to crawl over his skin. He had to turn away, walk away, **RUN AWAY,** but he couldn't bear to lose sight of those eyes. He was prepared to stand there for eternity.

The train whistle shrieking in his ears jarred his concentration. Joker blinked and looked around nervously, had anyone seen him standing there for what had surely been hours? A glance at his watch told him it had been a few seconds. He let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding.

He sneaked a look in the direction of Bruce and the old man. They were nowhere in site, they had probably moved on. Why wouldn't they? Nothing had happened out of the ordinary for the train station.

Joker felt his eyebrows come together in frustration, his mouth turning down in defeat. He had been _so_ **close**. Now what was he going to do? He put a hand over his eyes, feeling tired and irritated. He breathed slowly, forcing himself to calm down.

A second whistle caused his head to snap up. The train was **leaving**!

_Those eyes_!

In a flash of panic, the Joker bolted for one of the doors as the train began to move. Grabbing the handrail, he heaved himself up. With one last glance backwards, he saw Bruce's gaze sweeping the crowd.

_Next time, Brucey, _he thought, opening the train door.

Pulling his conductor's hat down, he walked briskly through the car, looking for the supernatural being that had turned his world upside down in an instant. (You didn't think he had made such a great plan and went without a great **disguise **too, _did you?_)

She wasn't in the car he had boarded, so he exited, tossing the conductor's hat and jacket and pulling on a newsboy cap from his pocket before entering the next.

This car was empty- save for a single seat near the front of the car. That seat held the goddess with crystal eyes, still staring out the window. He didn't know what to do; he was almost to her! He would stop, he would turn around and sit in the back, he would forget the whole thing- but his feet would not heed his angry mental commands to _**HALT!**_ His breath became shallow as he became more and more nervous, what was _wrong_ with him?

Before he knew it, he was right next to her. She didn't stir, though he was positive that his heart was a thundering drum, his breathing a screeching chorus of violins. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sounds emerged. He tried to swallow, but all he got was the feeling of rusty nails scratching their way down his throat.

He took a deep breath, and the words came out in a whoosh of air- "Is this seat taken?"

He snapped his mouth shut in surprise. He had never heard his voice so small, so scared. The girl turned to face forward. She ran a hand along the seat, as if to dust it off.

"It seems not. Go ahead and sit," she said, facing the window once more.

Joker sat down slowly. He couldn't believe it. Her voice was as beautiful as her eyes. He wanted to talk to her, to make her address him again, to hear the sound of heavenly choirs again. He was so nervous he thought he was going to be sick. The silence was pushing down on him like a boulder as he sunk into the chair. He wondered where this train was going, where she would get off, where he would go when she finally did leave the space next to him.

"Are you alright?"

The voice caught him by surprise.

"What?" he choked out.

"You were mumbling," she said without turning from the window, "Are you alright?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. I'm fine." Joker sunk deeper into his seat, feeling embarrassed. _Embarrassed? What is going on with me?! Keep it together! You're the __**Joker, **__the Clown Prince of Crime, the Ace of Knaves, the Architect of Anarchy! _

His mental beat down only made him sink down further. She must think him strange, scary, **crazy**. He snuck a glance at her, hoping she was still looking out the window.

Her light brown hair tumbled down her shoulders in curls, her worn jacket reflecting the gray of the Gotham sky. The shirt underneath was a pale red, the color of his own marred lips, long stained from his daily theatrical get-up. She smelled so good, like cherry blossoms and oranges, with a hint of...something wonderful. Something he wanted more of.

His breathing stopped as he realized that he had leaned in rather close to the girl. He silently gave thanks that there was no one else in the train car, and that the girl seemed to be too lost in the scenery outside to notice. He went back to being sunk in his seat, watching her like a hawk out of the corners of his eyes. As he watched, her hand moved to tuck a few strands behind her ear, causing the bracelet on her slender wrist to jingle slightly and catch the light.

"What is that?" Joker asked before he could stop himself as she laid her arm on the armrest between them. The girl turned her head slightly, her eyebrows pushing together slightly in a confused look.

"On your wrist," he said. He tapped her arm lightly, as if a single breath would cause her to shatter.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, a smile spreading over her lips, "My father gave it to me." She pulled her sleeve up a little to reveal the delicate chain of shining silver.

Slowly, she spun it until a little rectangle charm was facing the Joker. The image on it made his breath get caught up in his lungs, made him grip the bottom of his seat as if he were holding on for dear life, made him still as a statue- it was a tiny replica of a joker card from a deck of cards. Surely this was the universe's idea of irony, of a joke, of karma? He **had** to be dreaming.

"My father gave me this before he died. He loved to do card tricks for me when I was a girl, even though he was very bad at them," she laughed, "He used decks full of joker cards instead of a normal deck, so he would be able to guess the right card every time. I always pretended not to know his secret." Her smile widened at the memories. "When I was sixteen, he taught me all his magic and I pretended to be very surprised to learn the big secret. He had this charm made so that I would know he was always with me."

Joker had been staring at the bracelet. Now he raised his eyes to look at the girl's face. She ran a finger over the little card without looking at it. In fact, she seemed to not be looking at anything at all. He lifted his own face so that it was at the level of hers and looked straight at her. At such close proximity, Joker saw that the sapphires she claimed to be eyes were lightly clouded, unwavering, blank almost. The realization hit him like a fifty pound bag of nails; this beautiful creature was blind.

The train whistle struck his brain for the third time in the day. A voice boomed over the loudspeakers, "South 8th Station."

"This is my stop," the girl said. Joker stood to let her by. She felt her way along the seats ahead as she moved past him, her scent wrapping around him like a parting embrace. She paused by the door in the aisle, turning back to speak once more- "What's your name?"

_My __**NAME?**_ Joker felt his face get pale [well, paler than it already was] as he scrambled for an acceptable answer. He couldn't tell this angel that she was in the presence of Gotham's dirtiest scum! It wasn't like he had never used an alias before, why couldn't he _think_ of any of them?!

As his brain struggled desperately to work properly, his mouth moved involuntarily to give her what she sought; "Jack."

The girl smiled brightly, "Well, Jack, perhaps we'll meet again."

And with that, she was gone.

Joker stood there, torn between following her or staying on the train and going to his own hide-out. He watched out the window as a porter helped her down the stairs and onto the platform. She greeted him in a friendly manner, then set off without help, without fear. A few passengers departed from the rest of the train, but none entered the car that he now had to himself.

The train began to move again as he sat slowly, unsure of everything that had happened. _Was_ it a dream? No, it couldn't be, the seat next to him still smelled divine. He ran the back of his hand over it lightly, feeling the warmth left behind. Pulling the cap off of his head, he ran his fingers through his hair, as if to comb out the confusion and sort through his mixed up feelings, but to no avail. He gave up with a sigh and resigned himself to staring out the window, as _she_ had just minutes earlier.

Joker stayed that way for a long time. The sky shifted from light gray to navy, the only light coming from the dull orange glow of the streetlamps. The train stopped many more times, but the car remained empty.

"East 21st Station."

Joker rose slowly, shoving his hat back on his head and pulling it low over his eyes. He exited the train and the station without a scene, not even bothering to sneer at the resident bums outside the gates. He slowly walked two blocks to his rented lair, no solid thoughts running through his mind. He hoped almost _desperately_ that they **would** meet again, and very soon.

He kicked himself for not following her, at least finding out where she lived. Her stop had been in the area just before the Narrows, but that didn't tell him anything. Her home could be decent or indecent. The thought of that gorgeous creature living in filth made him angry, his fist shooting out to leave a dent in a wall as he passed.

What if she lived with someone? Surely, she couldn't get around a house on her own…could she? No, clearly she was smart, she was strong. But the possibility of someone with her was reasonable. Was it someone related to her? A sister maybe? Did she have one of those seeing-eye dogs?

…_.Or was there a __**man**__?_

Joker realized he had stopped in front of his own door, muttering and shaking. He unclenched his fists with a deep breath and opened the door, shutting it loudly behind him. The sound reverberated through the dark alley, though no one looked to see the disturbance.

It was a quiet place, a dark place, tucked between the shadows of the big shot buildings and overlooked by anyone looking for it. The flat was just that- flat. He didn't spend much time there, and he certainly didn't have company. There was just enough furniture and things to get by.

He wandered to the designated bedroom, a narrow and worn bed in the corner. Opening the closet, he hung the newsboy cap on a hook inside. His closet was filled- several custom-made suits in his favorite shades of purple and green, various uniforms, and of course the conformity "every day" garb. He kicked the shoes off and shut the door, turning to flop on the bed with his eyes shut tightly.

For the first time in what seemed like a very long time, he was doing…nothing. His mind entertained no plans for destruction, no plans for chaos and misery, no plans for escape, no new ways to force the Batman out of hiding. Thinking about Batman didn't even get him riled up. He hadn't been this still, this undisturbed, this apathetic since his first night in Arkham Asylum.

He remembered that like it was yesterday; Batman had tied him up for Gotham's swat team, and run off to see about Harvey Dent. That was fine, Joker was content to be "captured" again and hear what happened in the news in the morning. Only, he was expecting to be sent back to a holding cell with the new Commissioner, not to Gotham's local nuthouse…

* * *

**Oh yeah, I don't own Batman or Joker or anything cool at all. Boo :(**

**~Momo**


	3. Chapter 3

_He remembered that like it was yesterday; Batman had tied him up for Gotham's swat team, and run off to see about Harvey Dent. That was fine, Joker was content to be "captured" again and hear what happened in the news in the morning. Only, he was expecting to be sent back to a holding cell with the new Commissioner, not to Gotham's local nuthouse…_

* * *

Arkham Asylum was a run-down, ill-kept torture factory. Screams of banshees floated through the halls at all hours, and therapy consisted of a nice cold bath and a little electricity. When you weren't in therapy, you were taking a pleasant drug induced nap. The muscle was dumb and the nurses were apathetic. No one _really_ cared if you were living or dying in there. Upon his arrival, Joker was immediately tossed into a dingy stonewall room with a cot, a tiny window at the top of the wall, and a single bulb to light his new home. He was very good at waiting, he told himself. All he had to do was wait until the right moment.

But that first night, the screams kept him awake; the smell of something burning was nauseating. It reminded him of something, **something** from a very long time ago. Something he couldn't quite remember, couldn't quite put his knife on, couldn't quite figure out. All he knew was that it made him sick and shaky. After a few days of it, he though he really _would_ go **nuts**. The fact that he couldn't figure out why it bothered him so much only made it worse.

They had tried to make him wash his face clean, to see the man underneath, but _**that **_didn't go over very well. Anyone who got close to him with soap and water met their maker in less than ten minutes. After five deaths in just his first three days, it was decided that he would be allowed his makeup, but under the conditions that he **would** wear an orange jumpsuit, like everyone else, and he wouldn't kill any more of the staff. _Yeah, __**sure**__._

He kept himself in entertained by finding interesting ways to kill the guards and nurses. Sometimes he was subtle, sometimes he wasn't. There really _wasn't_ anything they could do to make him stop. He could look them in the eye and make all the promises they wanted him to, and then destroy whoever was unlucky enough to bring him his next meal. Once he had made a good dent in the staff, he had the honor of meeting the illustrious Jeremiah Arkham, current ringleader of the asylum. Joker had given him a very _nice_ hello, **HAHAHA!** Apparently, the good doctor didn't find the humor in being stabbed through the cheek with his own pen.

That little incident, of course, landed him in total solitude. The cot was removed and he was given three pitiful meals a week. No one gave him any more sedatives, no one checked to see if he was alive. He kept track of the days by carving his name into the bricks of his room with the small nail he had removed from the cot before they had taken it away.

He really didn't mind being alone. That's how it always was. He didn't mind having so little to eat. He had never had much time for it on the outside. He didn't mind the cot being taken. He was stuck in a room made completely of stone, did it matter whether he slept on stone or not? _**No**_. Three months of seclusion had no real effect on him.

Five months after he had been admitted into Arkham Asylum, Dr. Harleen Quinzel came and changed everything. Well, as much of it as she could. She was young and beautiful, really **ambitious**- ready to face the world and make her name as a psychiatrist at the asylum. She demanded that each inmate be allowed exercise and recreation, that they have decent food, clothing and bedding, and that they have at _least_ four hours a week to talk about their _problems_ with her. Yes, she would have been a bright star, if she hadn't fallen fast and hard for Gotham's most dangerous man. People thought _he _was crazy? They had obviously never had an obsessive woman on their hands.

"Harl**een** Quin_zel_, huh?" he said upon meeting her for the first time. "You know, toots, if you slash a few letters, you might have something. _**Harley**_ _**Quinn**_ is a much better fit for a doll like you!" And Joker had her wrapped around his finger from that moment on. At first, the doc had merely been fascinated by his every word. She was grouchy all day until it was his turn for a heart to heart with her. Then, she began spending more and more of her office time around him. And that wasn't the only thing Dr. Quinzel was doing- there was a noticeable difference in the make up she had on, the clothes she wore. Eventually, her pretty engagement ring wasn't even making any appearances.

She began spending **all** her time with him, opening up to him about anything and everything; her failed engagement, her insecurity as a psychiatrist, her abhorrence to putting on a smile all the time when she **just** wanted to _live_ her life the way she wanted!

She called him "Puddin" and "Mista J"- her Jersey accent breaking through her carefully constructed mold. She got very comfortable with him, but never got _close_ to him. After all, she had walked into his cell for a chat only to find him killing one of the nurses or guards more than once! Her brain knew he was dangerous, but her giddy little heart wouldn't listen.

After working in the nuthouse just six weeks, she wasn't even going home, spending most nights in her office falling asleep watching replays of their chats on her computer. Sometimes, she confessed her love to him in her sleep! It was so disgusting it was hysterical. Joker knew this because he was in the shadows, watching her, while she thought he was tucked away under lock and key.

Under the doc's relaxed reign, it was very _easy_ to get out of his cell. Yes, there were a few times when he wondered if it would be amusing to run away with her, to have a partner in crime who would do anything he demanded- but her obsession with him was really more of a nuisance than anything. She was starting to get a bit _creepy._ It would've been a cakewalk to kill her there in her office and be done with it. But why not have **her** do the dirty work **for** him? So he opted for watching Harleen Quinzel lose her mind and turn into Harley Quinn.

He started telling her she was great, she was pretty, she was the best- and she gobbled up his words like they were candy. He even went as far as to clasp her hands in his own and declare that she was the perfect gal for him. She melted like butter on the spot. It was so hysterical to watch the doctor become as nutty as her patients. Eventually, she hatched her own plan to "bust outta the loony bin and live togetha happily foreva, Puddin'!"

It was so perfect; Joker wondered if he could have done it better himself. Of course he hadn't meant a single word. He certainly had **no intention** of sticking with her.

Harley had arranged everything, from explosions and guard distractions to a getaway route and costume for herself. She even had his carefully tailored suit and his knife collection in hand when she freed him from his cell a mere eight months after he had been admitted.

He allowed her to get them out of the building and far from the property before beginning to ignore her. She started asking him questions about his old operations, his hideouts, his goons. He realized that she had planned the escape, and nothing else. She clearly thought that the next step was something he had figured out. True, he always had something in the works, but it didn't involve her. There was _no way_ that he was going to let that needy woman stick around with him- she was a Class A succubus! As soon as they were back on Gotham's main streets, he lost her going around the block. Turning the corner much faster than her, Joker saw a door open to his right, and ducked inside quickly. Holding a knife to the throat of the man who had been about to leave, he stood there in the darkness holding his breath. Harley, **the scatterbrain**, walked right on by, happily humming to herself. Honestly, he couldn't figure out if she had lost her smarts when she lost her mind, or if she had _always_ been stupid and slept around to get through school.

"Thanks pal, you've been a big help," he told the man before knocking him unconscious.

He stepped out of the building and onto the street, watching Harley grow smaller in the distance. He could hear her calls for him, and headed in the opposite direction. After that, he promptly swore off women. They were **far** more trouble than they were worth.

Joker heard the next day that she had robbed some swanky jewelry store uptown. She really couldn't resist shiny, sparkling things. New to a life of crime, she was picked up by Gotham's finest quickly. Harley was charged with a nice list of offenses, including grand theft auto and aiding in the escape of a criminal, not to mention the giant malpractice suit she now had hanging over her head. Although she tried **desperately** to claim insanity in order to be shipped off to Arkham, likely in hopes of meeting her "_Puddin_'" there, her judge was not so convinced. Harley was currently serving her time in county jail with the rest of the common thugs of Gotham…

* * *

**Yep, I still don't own Batman. Damn. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews!**

**~Momo**


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